Jonathots Daily Blog
(3804)
The name of the restaurant was Vous L’Appelez, which was French for “You Name It.”
It was one of nine restaurants at the Haven on the Mount which offered all sorts of fine cuisine at very reasonable prices since money was not an issue.
The frustration of cash had been removed from the compound by using credits and bartering as a way of distributing goods and services instead of passing around American currency, which really had no relevance. Each family maintained their own personal accounts in other parts of the world, depending on whether they wanted to be “missing in action,” or “presumed dead.”
But Vous L’Appelez had a wonderful advertising scheme of offering anything you wanted to eat–as long as you phoned ahead. Matthew had rented the entire facility for the evening, for what he hoped would be a very special night.
It was the six-month anniversary of his arrival in the mountains, and he felt it was time to sit down with Leonora, offer a ring and a proposal he hoped she would not refuse. Their relationship was sweet. It was well-thought-out. It was without contention–for after all, everything in the region was minus strife and the pursuit of vanity. Their romance was clean, free of obstruction.
But there were moments when Matthew felt that the energetic young woman, who had a tendency to lose interest very quickly, was absent and that her mind was floating to other concerns, even during their times of intimacy.
He had no way of proving it. Every time he brought up some problem with their connection, she cited a hundred examples of bliss and joy. So pushing past his own foolish insecurity and overbearing need to throw a wrench into all great works, he set up this dinner–this meeting, this moment–to once and for all enter a relationship with a woman that would last for more than a night.
It had been an amazing six months. Although he had seen Michael Hinston for some meetings and luncheons, and made sure to connect with Jo-Jay, and even had a coffee a time or two with the billionaire king himself, most of his daytime hours were spent being mentored and emotionally healed by Joshua Jackson.
Joshua was a large man–formidable. Almost frightening. Had it not been for his gentle eyes and warm embraces, Matthew would have been intimidated.
Joshua knew everything.
He knew all the stories of what led up to Matthew’s arrival at the Haven on the Mount and he seemed to have a unique way of taking the cumbersome Bible scriptures and bringing them down to common sense and simplicity for the often-cynical former marketer.
They developed such a deep friendship that several of the residents mistook Joshua and Matthew for lovers. So Matthew was careful to spend his days with Joshua and his nights with Leonora. He wanted to at least appear bi-sexual.
Joshua filled in many of the blanks. He explained a phenomenon that Matthew had never considered–that in every organization there always existed a subversive core of individuals who wanted to use the power of their authority to gain wealth, even if they had to hurt other people.
It made no difference if the organization was a library, a country or a bank–tucked deep into the underbelly of every business or corporation were the radicals who desired to manipulate.
Joshua had been hired to find those under-bellies. It was his job to join them, fellowship with them, drink their favorite booze and learn how to prevent their nasty plans from destroying the movement.
Therefore he often appeared to be the enemy, when he was actually the stopgap who kept tragedy from befalling the lives of those who were trying to bring a little peace on Earth, goodwill toward men.
Joshua had planned the abduction of Jo-Jay, rescuing her through that kidnapping from being murdered by a car bomb. He had carefully placed her in the Amazon forest, knowing full well that another member of the team, Reverend Paulson, would be nearby for the recovery when the time was right.
(Matter of fact, the Paulson family, with both children, were currently dwelling in the Haven on the Mount–a blessed retirement for years of bringing the Gospel to the ignored.)
Joshua had also quietly saved Jubal’s life several times, and had even set in motion a plan to foil the plot in Salisbury, North Carolina, killing believers, by joining up with the three assassins. Joshua’s plan was to murder the trio right before the attack. Unfortunately, his fellow-assassins got nervous and antsy, and decided to instigate the job before Joshua arrived.
When Joshua came to Salisbury and saw the death and destruction around him, he was overcome with grief and took his pistol and aimed it at his head to take his own life, feeling he had failed.
It was Carlin Canaby who stopped him; otherwise he would have been marked by all eternity as one of the deceased murderers.
This was before Carlin became known by the group, standing on the sidelines to make sure “the edges didn’t curl up.”
Joshua told story after story of his work among the more sinister, rebellious elements around the country–how each secret counter-culture had manufactured an America in their minds that was run either by Satan or greed.
Time and time again he stepped in to fill the need–a space which was fortunately unknown to most people because of his effectiveness.
Notably, the Christian Liberty Operation (the CLO) used him as an operative and because of his work there, he was able to expose an errant terrorist group within their own ranks, preventing disaster–thereby legitimizing what turned out to be a worthwhile organization.
Matthew fell in love with Joshua–a brotherly love he had never experienced before. He had never known anyone like Joshua. Joshua was candid. Joshua was self-effacing, without being frightened or imbalanced.
Joshua loved people.
After he was convinced that Matthew could be trusted, Joshua shared the story of Prophet Morgan. He did so quietly but defiantly. Joshua still questioned what happened to the young preacher. He believed that Arthur Harts had made a hasty decision because of his dislike of the Southern boy.
Joshua explained that there was no doubt that Morgan was a drug addict. He had started as a boy–to try to keep up with his father’s tent revivals, to stay alert and energetic, but then he was never able to get out from under the monkey on his back, which gradually turned into a gorilla, smashing him into the ground.
Joshua worked with him. Because Prophet Morgan did not know who Joshua was or why he was there, Joshua was able to take him on like a little brother. But the Prophet was determined to fulfill his own dark self-prophesy.
When it became obvious to Joshua that the boy needed help and rehabilitation–perhaps to be brought to the Haven on the Mount to heal–Harts refused.
He explained to Joshua, “To everything there’s a season. This is not a season for the young Prophet.”
Three days later, Morgan took his car out into the middle of the desert and found a way to kill himself. Even though many people in Vegas thought it was a murder, it was, in fact, a horrible suicide.
Joshua closed the story by saying to Matthew, “I do understand. And I do appreciate the importance of the decision. I just don’t agree.”
Matthew had six months of rich conversations and revelations in his mind as he sat down to dinner with Leonora.
He had requested all forms of baked and broiled seafood along with tropical fruits. She loved that mixture and so did he. They dined, they giggled a bit, and they both chilled with joy over being together in such a safe utopia.
Dinner came to an end and Leonora was growing a bit impatient from hanging around the restaurant. Matthew knew he needed to make his move.
What was stopping him? Why didn’t he just reach into his pocket and pull out the ring–a family heirloom provided by Billionaire Harts for the occasion–and place it on her finger?
There was one question–an unanswered, festering notion–that he needed her to explain. It was so awkward, perhaps petty. But still–he wanted to know.
Matthew geared up his courage, guzzled some mineral water, took her hands, looked into her eyes, and said, “I have a question.”
She nodded her head, maintaining her eye contact.
“When I was so sick,” he began, “and it was obvious I needed a liver transplant–but more importantly, I needed you–why did you choose that moment to go away?”
She surprised him. She bristled, stiffened and pulled her hands back.
“Why are we going into this now?” she asked. “I thought…”
Then she stopped.
“You thought what?” asked Matthew.
She shook her head. He leaned forward, drawing closer to her face.
“No, Leonora. Tell me. You thought what?”
Leonora stood to her feet, stepped behind her chair, pivoted and spoke. “I thought you were going to propose to me tonight.”
Matthew leaned back. “What gave you that idea?”
Leonora stepped a couple of feet away, and then turned and replied. “You know what gave me that idea. My grandfather said he gave you the family heirloom ring, and also permission to ask. I thought that’s what this dinner was about. Why are we talking about old silliness when we have our lives ahead of us?”
Matthew craned his neck to stare up at her.
“So which part of this is silly? Me being sick? Me being weak? Me needing you? Or you disappearing?”
“It’s all silly,” she said, moving back into her chair. She took his hands again. “Come on. The past is the past. Why are we ruining this moment, worrying about what’s already happened?”
Matthew took a deep breath and spoke words he had only whispered in his heart in the middle of the night.
“Because, Leonora…I don’t think you love me.”
He shocked himself when he heard the words. They were so lonesome as they hung in the air, without any support; abandoned, needing a place to find rest, but orphaned in the silence.
“You don’t think I love you?” Leonora said. “Haven’t I shown you I love you? I’ve never loved a man the way I love you.”
Matthew interrupted. “I believe that. I do. I just don’t know…Well, I just don’t know if that’s enough for me.”
Leonora stood to her feet again, repeating her pivot around her chair.
“Matthew Ransley, what is it you want? What do you want from me? Am I to be your devotee? Am I supposed to cheer your every move? Should I lessen myself so you feel better?”
Matthew jumped in. “So you think you have to lessen yourself to be my equal? Is that what you’re saying?”
Leonora walked across the room with all the appearances of departing, but stopped a few paces from the exit.
“What I’m saying,” she spit, “is that I don’t like complications. You see what I have to offer. You see who I am. You see how I function. You know my height, you know my depth–and if it isn’t enough, then fine. But don’t ask me to pretend to be your dream girl. I’m nobody’s girl. I am Leonora. I don’t plan on changing that. I am just like my instrument–the oboe. Yes. I’m just like the oboe. You put the right reed in me and you finger me correctly, and add the breath, and I will play you a beautiful tune. It may sound like a silly analogy and it probably is. But not nearly as ridiculous as this conversation. So do you love me? Are you going to give me the ring? Or are we going to sit and talk about this all night?”
Matthew sat and stared at the self-aware but also self-serving lady before him. She was perfect. That’s why he couldn’t be with her.
“Yes,” he said. “I will give you the ring so you can return it to your grandfather. You deserve better than me. Privately you know that. It’s just that sometimes your private thoughts get in my head.”
Leonora walked back to the table, took the ring, thought about speaking, but decided to just walk away.
Matthew sat and stared for a long time at the space once occupied by the woman he desired. He realized that desire is just not enough.
He took his phone out of his pocket, dialed a number and spoke.
“Plan Z.”
The owner of the restaurant, realizing that things had not turned out the way Matthew had anticipated, came over and gave him a tender, Christian hug, and said the meal was free. Matthew patted him on the shoulder, stepped out into the night air, climbed onto the golf cart which had been provided for his needs, and drove the one mile to the airport.
His jet was waiting for him.
Matthew realized that he could stand to live in the Haven if he and Leonora could have had a life together. But a sanctuary of safety was never what Matthew wanted in his life. He would much rather be in the chaos, and try to find a way to tie two ends together, to create some wholeness.
He did not belong at the Haven in the Mount. He was more of a Jubal, a Jasper, a Rolinda. He was going home.
But he was going home with a change in his heart–a belief that Jesus was not only popular, but brought a message and a lifestyle which was essential for Planet Earth.
Matthew was returning to his life–but this time as a believer.
Arriving at the airport, the pilot loaded his bags into the plane, and as he was about to climb up the steps and leave Paradise forever, he heard a voice.
“What’s your hurry?”
He turned around. It was Jo-Jay.
“You didn’t think you were gonna leave without me, did you? I want to tell you, Matthew. This place is so good it makes me feel bad.”
Matthew laughed and gave her a big hug.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Am I sure what?” inquired Jo-Jay.
“Are you sure about going back?”
“Well,” said Jo-Jay, “when I was coming here to the airport, thinking I was going to leave by myself, I felt pretty good about it. But now that I know I’m leaving with you–well–I still feel pretty good about it.”
She burst into laughter. He joined her.
They climbed into the airplane, and taxied down the runway, taking one final look at the Eden of the Hills.
“Maybe we’ll visit sometime,” said Matthew, looking over at Jo-Jay.
Jo-Jay chuckled. “Hell, Matthew. There’s no maybes in our world.”
The two leaned their heads back, feeling completely at peace.
It was time for them to go into the world and live the Gospel.
THE END
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Jonathots Daily Blog 
G-Poppers … December 2nd, 2016
Jonathots Daily Blog
(3143)
G-Pop was wondering what it would have been like if Facebook had been around for the birth of Jesus.
What would have grabbed the attention of the average Facebook reader in Judea?
Let’s look at the classic elements of the story:
These would more than likely have been deemed boring, averaging seven likes, zero comments and no reposts.
Even if someone had inserted the statement, “a baby was born in a manger,” the single repeating comment would have been, “Come on, Joseph. Get a job.”
Facebook demands drama.
Facebook seeks attention.
Facebook feeds off frenzy.
Facebook is selfish.
No, for the Christmas story to have worked on Facebook, one would need to hand-select the elements, and twist them a bit to make them of interest to the market:
“Pregnant teen and her boyfriend snub traditional marriage”
“Bonnie-and-Clyde-style crazy kids hold shepherds hostage in stable”
“Foreigners, astrologers, wanted for questioning by authorities for smuggling in unknown drugs”
“Lights in the sky! Could it be aliens?”
“And here is a picture of my ‘fur son,’ Jehoshaphat, the cat, as he rubs up against a little immigrant boy in the barn. Isn’t he cute? I mean the cat.”
G-Pop contends that we have become a society of “I’s” who include a few “we’s” if they agree with “us.”
To get likes, shares and comments, the entry has to be insipid enough to have universal appeal to those who find most of the universe unappealing.
But there will be a persistent few who insist on planting the notion of salvation, joy, humanity, brotherly love and peace on Earth.
And who knows?
Maybe in two thousand years, if that is done, they might call us Wise Men.
Don’t let another Christmas season go by without owning Jonathan’s book of Christmas stories
Mr. Kringle’s Tales …26 Stories ‘Til Christmas
An advent calendar of stories, designed to enchant readers of all ages
“Quite literally the best Christmas stories I have ever read.” — Arthur Holland, Shelby, North Carolina
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on December 2, 2016 at 3:07 pm Comments (1)Tags: a Savior is born, aliens, angels on high, astrologers, birth of Jesus, Bonnie and Clyde, brotherly love, Christmas story, Facebook, fur son, G-Pop, glad tidings of great joy, immigrant, Jehosophat, Judea, likes comments and reposts, manger, peace on earth, pregnant teen, Prince of Peace, rejoice, salvation, smuggling drugs, star of David, wise men